Come ye, O brethren, come, let us laud * with hymns and praises that battalion of martyred Saints * who burned in the wintry freezing and with their fiery-hot zeal * utterly have burned up error's bitter cold; * that noble array in war, that most sacred of companies, * that never-moved and indestructible soldiery, * those high-towered walls, those strong guardians of the Faith: * even the valiant choir of Forty Martyrs inspired of God, * the Church's bold intercessors, those men of prayer who most mightily * entreat Christ the Savior * to send down His holy peace
and great mercy to our souls.
Rejoice...
Rejoice, great host that bare off the prize * and that courageously excelled in the time of war; * ye lustrous and stately stars that passed through the fire and the frost * and dissolved the water frozen hard as stone; * ye made the earth heavenly and enlightened all things therein * and now are cherished in the bosom of Abraham * as ye dance for joy with the armies of angel-kind. * O holy Forty Martyrs, fairest flowers that ever breathe * the fragrance of the bestowal of true and spiritual gifts of grace. * Entreat Christ the Saviour * that He graciously bestow His great mercy on our souls.
